The Worst Sort Of Battle -- Three Peas 'Verse

[splice_of_life]

"The Worst Sort Of Battle"
Who:  Mohinder and Peter
When: After Elle's conversation with Peter upon his arrival back at the Company
Verse:  Three Peas

It was not getting any easier for Peter.  They'd given him too much.  Yes, his body was metabolizing it quickly as they pumped him full of dose after dose of what Elle lovingly referred to as 'Haitian

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[medicpetrelli]

Peter felt sicker and sicker every day. He wished they would just stop giving him that crap, but no, crazy electricity girl Elle said he had to have it.

He sat up and rubbed at his face, skin pale and eyes sullen. Peter spotted Mohinder through the window and decided he'd had enough, ripping the IV out of his arm. He wasn't going to lay there and let them sicken him more. He held the IV up for Mohinder, and the camera in the corner, to see. Then he tossed it aside.

[splice_of_life]

Mohinder had a good sense to look stricken as he slammed in his code and hurried through the door to Peter. "You need that," he said, muttering a few choice curses in Hindi. It wasn't out of any desire to save Peter's ears, just because it was a little more venomous when said in his native tongue.

He tore the tubes from Peter's hand and fiddled with the needles again.

"This is the only thing making sure you have enough fluids!"

[medicpetrelli]

Peter paced to the other side of the room, away from Mohinder, now free to do so without the tubes and wires. "Yeah well maybe if you stopped pumping me full of god knows what, I wouldn't need the fucking fluids!" He wasn't sure what words had left Mohinder's lips, but he knew they sounded angry. He could curse, too.

[splice_of_life]

"We haven't been pumping you full of anything!"

Oh, silly, naive Mohinder. He really thought the best of people, even when it was staring him in the face that he was being used. Again. He simply could not connect the two together. It was...disturbing.

"You need to stay calm, Peter."

[splice_of_life]

"Yes, very weird," Mohinder replied in his not quite British, not quite Indian accent. The blurring of the two was rather remarkable, the flavor of it extremely exotic. And he had no idea what certain people thought of him. No idea that Matt's eyes lingered or that Peter's did as well.

His mind was locked in science. Always had been and, it seemed, always would be.

Mohinder leaned in, frowning at the odd shape. "It is vaguely reminiscent of a single side of a helix, like RNA."

[medicpetrelli]

He went a little cross-eyed when Mohinder leaned into his personal space. Peter didn't hear anything the doctor had just said. "Sounds about right," he murmured. Their faces were too close. Too tempting. Too--

He tilted his head and stole a kiss, not really thinking about the consequences. He didn't know much of anything about himself, so why would it matter anyways? His lips pressed to Mohinder's briefly before he pulled back, watching him.

[splice_of_life]

Mohinder clutched at the necklace, eyelids at half mast before he looked up at Peter through thick lashes. "All right, point taken. I'm too close."

His head was filled with book smarts and saw dust, nothing else.

He bit lightly at his lower lip and cleared his throat before straightening up again. "I'll be sure to look into the necklace."

[medicpetrelli]

Peter winced internally. So he'd been shot down, then. He was glad he couldn't remember feeling
that before. "Thanks," he said sadly, sliding off the desk and plopping down onto his bed. He rolled so his back was to Mohinder.
Stupid.